Chapter 5: Wanting to Move Out

The fruits included in the novice gift pack were so lifelike that she could even smell the characteristic sweet fragrance of apples drifting under her nose. Tang Xin, already starving to the brink of madness, didn’t bother with any further hesitation. She picked up an apple, washed it, and bit into it without delay.

The apple was crisp and sweet, its fresh aroma lingering pleasantly. After eating it, her hunger subsided noticeably.

Tang Xin was even more astonished. She pinched herself hard, and the pain was sharp and real!

This proved she wasn’t dreaming. In other words, she wasn’t simply indulging in wild fantasies—she had truly acquired a portable space along with the incredible occurrence of transmigrating.

In her previous life, Tang Xin had been a diligent student, but during vacations she would read novels and watch TV, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with such things.

She experimented a bit—just by thinking of the outside, she found herself back in the room where she’d been resting.

Mentally chanting “Happy Farm,” in the blink of an eye Tang Xin realized she was standing once more within that very farm.

The farm was still bathed in bright daylight, and aside from a single plot of land, there was nothing else at present.

It really was just like the interface of the Happy Farm game she was used to, and the procedures seemed much the same.

A typical beginner’s journey started with a vast expanse of grassland; then you bought seeds, tilled the soil, watered, fertilized, sprayed pesticides, and finally harvested the crops.

Tang Xin casually tapped the toolbar at the top of the farm’s interface, and sure enough, a menu bar appeared before her, displaying all sorts of buttons.

It was just like the Happy Farm she had played before. There was even a sign-in button that rewarded you with acceleration tools.

Planting required watering, fertilizing, and pest control, and generally, you could harvest the fruit within a few hours or up to a dozen hours.

But this farm was even better than her previous game, because after clicking the sign-in button, the system notified her she had received a drop of spiritual spring water.

It even told her that if she continued to sign in tomorrow, she’d receive two drops, with the amount increasing each day. If she signed in for ten consecutive days, there would be additional rewards.

Could it be that very spiritual spring water she knew of—the one famed for its beautifying and life-saving properties?

Tang Xin was delighted. To be able to bring Happy Farm with her after transmigrating was truly a stroke of fortune.

Based on her previous experience, the farm started with only one plot of land, but as she improved her planting skills and earned more gold coins, she could unlock more.

In the future, the farm could be upgraded to include a ranch, a fishery, and even the latest addition, a beehive. She could have not only fruit but meat as well.

At the start, the novice could only plant white radishes and carrots. Tang Xin tapped the planting button, then watered and fertilized the soil in one go.

She planned to check back in ten hours to see if the radishes had matured—this would be the test of the farm space’s efficacy.

As for the novice gift pack, she certainly wouldn’t let it go to waste, not in this era of scarcity.

Acting on impulse, Tang Xin tested bringing fruits from the farm back to her real room—and it worked.

She brought back a bunch of grapes, their enticing aroma filling the air. Fortunately, she was alone and the door was locked—otherwise, she’d have no idea how to explain it if someone saw.

After several trips back and forth, Tang Xin was certain: this farm was her own portable space.

With Happy Farm as her backing, at the very least, she’d have her material needs secured in this impoverished decade of the seventies.

Thanks to this miraculous farm space, Tang Xin felt a surge of enthusiasm for life—so much so that she woke up very early the next day.

Or at least, what she thought was early.

In fact, the entire educated youth hostel was quiet; most of the others, including Lu Liqin and Meng Jia, had already left to earn work points in the fields.

Most of the educated youth had been here for over two or three years and had long been tempered by harsh social realities—if you didn’t work diligently, your work points would be insufficient at year’s end, and you’d have no grain to fill your belly the following year.

Only a few, like Tang Xin, came from relatively well-off families and received food coupons and money as supplements from home.

Because of this, even though she had been sent to the countryside for re-education, the original Tang Xin had never really suffered, at least not to the point of waking up early for work.

This was also why Lu Liqin believed he hadn’t fulfilled the task Tang’s father had entrusted to him.

With Meng Jia constantly watching and frequently nagging the original Tang Xin, pointing out her shortcomings and lecturing her, she’d often end up angry.

Now that Tang Xin was here, she knew she had to first familiarize herself with her new battlefield.

She stepped outside and looked around casually, only to be shocked by the sight.

This was their educated youth hostel, their temporary home for these years?

Several ramshackle mud-brick houses stood precariously by a muddy road, looking just like the dilapidated homes in seventies-era TV dramas.

At least the roofs were tiled rather than thatched—otherwise, a strong wind would have blown them away entirely.

Tang Xin’s body swayed, and she was speechless with grief.

She had thought that, being in the China of 1970, the commune would at least provide them with a proper brick house.

Clearly, she’d been too optimistic.

Once again, she thanked the heavens—without her space farm, she wouldn’t survive three days in this era!

Taking the opportunity, Tang Xin wandered around the hostel grounds. After all, reading about this setting in books was vastly different from experiencing it firsthand.

There were only five rooms in the entire hostel, and according to her memories, more than twenty male and female educated youth lived here.

It seemed they had to share dormitories like university students, and she was fortunate enough to be assigned a two-person room.

Her roommate, however, was far from friendly in Tang Xin’s eyes.

Her roommate was Meng Jia!

The thought of Meng Jia made her stomach ache with hunger again, for since last night, all she’d eaten was an apple and a bunch of grapes from the farm.

Tang Xin searched the hostel and, in the kitchen, found a bowl of thin, watery porridge made from coarse grains and a roasted sweet potato.

On a rickety table, a note weighed down by an empty bowl caught her eye—it was from Meng Jia, who had left her breakfast on purpose.

In the past, the original Tang Xin would have been grateful, with Meng Jia always making a show of her generosity, sparing her own food for her friend.

But now, Tang Xin could only scoff. How much of the good food her mother had sent from the city had Meng Jia coaxed away for herself?

Tang Xin had originally planned to return to the space farm for a snack—anything from there would be better than Meng Jia’s leftover porridge and sweet potato.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. It was Meng Jia’s voice: “Tang Xin, are you in there? Why did you lock the door?”

Tang Xin went over and opened the door. Meng Jia walked in, her brow furrowed tightly.

“Tang Xin, what’s going on? You locked the door last night, so I had to squeeze in with someone else.”

They were supposed to be roommates, and in such a rundown hostel there were only so many rooms. Two to a room was a privilege secured thanks to the Tang family’s connections; in other rooms, three or four people squeezed into spaces just as small.

The thought of having to share a room with Meng Jia made Tang Xin uneasy all over.

No, she thought, she had to marry Li Sheng as soon as possible—then she could move out of the hostel for good.